


Body of Lies

by SixthNight



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Drama, F/M, Pre-Canon, Reti, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Subterfuge, Turk Tifa, Turks (Compilation of FFVII)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthNight/pseuds/SixthNight
Summary: Hellbent on revenge for everything Shinra has taken from her, Tifa infiltrates their ranks as the newest member of the Turks. As she puts it all on the line, she discovers things are not always what they seem.
Relationships: Biggs/Tifa Lockhart, Tifa Lockhart & Barret Wallace, Tifa Lockhart & Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart & Jessie, Tifa Lockhart/Reno
Comments: 20
Kudos: 54





	1. Wildcard

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU adventure that takes place before and during the events of FFVIIR. The timeline here is gently altered, putting a little over a year between when the Turks are nearly executed and when Avalanche bombs Mako Reactor 5. This story takes place in the year between the two events. It also assumes Tifa isn’t a known member of Avalanche to Shinra at this point. Just a fun idea that popped into mind as I farmed at the colosseum on my latest play through of Remake. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_  
December 0006_

**_T_** ifa Lockhart struggled to bring her heartbeat down from a thundering roar. She could feel the tremor in her gloved hands, the only sign of nervousness betraying her calm before the storm. The metallic tang of blood and the thick smell of dust floated all around her. Overhead, fluorescents buzzed while bathing the hallway in white light. The man in aviators smirked at her, shifting aside to clear the way.

Stepping forward, she hopped from one foot to the other, anxiously waiting for the doors to slide open. This arena was her sanctuary. After Zangan brought her to Midgar only to abandon her once he was sure she’d live, she struggled to find her place. Alone in a new city, she floundered for a while.

Four years later, she found herself connected with Avalanche and managing a bar named Seventh Heaven. Being a part of the mission to take down Shinra gave her purpose but it left her conflicted, in need of a way to work out her frustrations. The fiends on Scrap Boulevard weren’t typically much of a challenge these days so against Barret’s wishes, she found herself in Wall Market more often than she ever intended.

Original intent aside, she saw the battles as a way to keep up with her training. Under a fake name, she worked her way through the cheap matches where she discovered the freedom of an arena where innocent bystanders couldn’t be harmed. The lack of rules, the amorality of it all, fighting in a place where the only limit was her own ability, all of it was an unexpected comfort. She came to relish exploring an entire side of herself that was hiding just beneath the surface. The Cuahl waiting in the fringes, ready to pounce.

Tifa rose through the ranks, justifying her habit by putting her winnings to good use. The cathartic outlet became a way to balance the scales for the questionable things Avalanche sometimes got her into. The promoters quickly took notice of her exceptional fighting style. That notice brought her to this very event, the biggest she had been invited to yet.

Through the massive door, voices traveled to her, interwoven as if the two announcers had become of one mind.

Kotch kicked things off with bravado. “Tonight, in the city that never sleeps—”

“Among those who chase their every debaucherous desire—” Scotch followed.

“Who have come seeking a violently good time here at the Corneo Colosseum—”

“We present to you, a never before seen spectacle!”

She could hear the jeering chants of the crowd growing louder in response, whipped into a frenzy by the pandering announcers. The walls vibrated with the crash of feet against the floor above her. Her stomach knotted tightly as she thought about all that was on the line with a match like this. With a deep breath, she firmly shut it out again, channeling the energy in her limbs and centering her chi. This was just any other night, any other opponent.

Tifa let the uproar of the crowd become her battle-song.

The dance of words went on around her. “A spectacle guaranteed to bring you to your knees—”

“You won’t be able to tear your eyes away from the chaos, the gore, and—”

“The vivacious, most bodacious competitor this Colosseum has ever seen!"

“But don’t let her _killer_ looks distract—”

"She'll rip off your balls and smash 'em!"

Tifa rolled her eyes.

“But can she take on the special challenge we have waiting for her?”

“The worst of the fiends all wrapped up in one ugly little present—”

“Will she go out in flames or take the prize?”

“Find out in tonight’s Corneo Cup!”

As the doors parted, she released all of her worries and fears. Instead, she thought only of victory. The lights above made it impossible to see the crowd, something she always found herself grateful for. Especially as Kotch and Scotch each took one of her arms and lifted them above her head.

“Our very own Ava Wallace!” They shouted in synch, further hyping up the crowd.

She winced at the name, not her finest invention. It was the first thing to come to mind in her panic the night she signed up for that first match. All nerves and little forethought, she blurted the name of an old friend and the last name of a man who embodied strength and vigor.

“Good luck, love,” Scotch told her with a little tap on the rear. She considered taking a swing at his retreating head but thought better of it, giving him only a threatening look instead. More fuel for the fire she was stoking.

As she turned to face the entrance to the ring opposite her, she shut out the screams and catcalls hurled from the gallery. The doors cracked slowly, building her anticipation until she was nearly drowning in it. A nasty looking face formed in the darkness, flames glowing atop both of its horns. Haunting red eyes focused on her with glowing intensity. Grizzly shoulders came next, brutal scars worn proudly on each. The beast’s stocky legs tapered down to deadly talons that scraped at the ground with ferocity. The gaping, bloody maw full of razor-sharp teeth was a nice touch, she thought. They really wanted this to look completely hopeless for her.

There was no time to consider how she might be in over her head.

Silence surged through the crowd as the creature burst forth with a chilling roar. As it reared up, chants began to fill the stadium, calls for the creature to rip her apart countered by her name like a prayer on strangers tongues. None of it mattered as the match started. Adrenaline crashed into her veins, buzzing through her limbs.

The frustration toward Avalanche and their nefarious plans, the disrespect from the announcers, and the audience of miscreants who wished her dead in the name of a good show all culminated. She harnessed the rage, embraced the bloodlust. With a dangerous smile, she launched herself straight at the fiend.

* * *

“ ** _K_** iller looks, huh?” Reno elbowed his partner with a wink. “Can’t wait to see who they’ve got lined up for this now.”

Rude gave an indifferent grunt. “They always hype things up, you know.”

“A guy can hope.”

Reno stood in the VIP section of the gallery with Rude, excited to see the special match they learned of while grabbing dinner at a ramen joint. After paying up, they’d gone immediately to the underground colosseum. The place was packed, the fervor of the crowd palpable as they ate up every word the announcers fed them. He sipped fizzy yellow beer from a plastic cup, trying not to grimace at the cheap, watered down taste.

The crowd went wild as a dark-haired woman jogged up to the announcers, her red high-tops scuffing with every bouncing step. Reno took in the curves, the leather, the short skirt, the _thigh-highs_.

“Fuck, man. I think they didn’t hype things up enough this time.”

A glance at Rude confirmed he agreed. His brows shot up high, a grin on his lips. “I suppose not,” he said, lowering his head a bit to get a better look over the top of his glasses.

“Shit, I hope she doesn’t get her ass splattered all over the ring. Would be a real waste.”

“Something tells me she can hold her own.”

Reno watched, just able to make out that she was glaring daggers at one of the announcers after he gave her an overly friendly pat. “You just might be right.”

The opposing doors opened at an excruciatingly slow rate, revealing bit-by-bit the murderous beast that awaited the fighter with the killer looks. He nearly felt bad for her as he sucked in a breath, letting it out in a whistle.

“Damn,” Rude added.

The signal sounded, initiating the match. Without hesitation, the woman launched herself across the arena at a surprising clip. “The hell...” he said.

“She’s faster than you.”

"You better clean your glasses, partner. I've got her by a mile."

As she rained down a series of punches, whirling uppercuts, and dive kicks on the beast, Rude asked, “You sure about that?”

Reno had to admit, she looked like she might give him a run for his gil. “Only one way to find out. If she wins, I could challenge her.”

Rude looked at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Not happening.”

“Why not, yo? Could be fun.” His focus returned to the fight. Fun was definitely on the menu.

“Tseng will have your head on a platter for it.”

“Right along with his fancy breakfast tea, I’m sure.”

Rude chuckled. He was right, Tseng wouldn’t appreciate either of them getting involved in a match. While they often sent new tech and several of Hojo’s lab experiments to test, maybe even the occasional Public Security member, he knew they’d frown on a Turk jumping in the ring. Two months ago, what remained of the Turks narrowly survived being put down by order of the president himself. The last thing their division needed was any more attention.

Focusing on the match again, he watched as the fighter dodged and parried in something he could only describe as a lethal dance. The beast managed to land a couple of healthy hits, but every time he thought the woman might end up on her back, she managed to twist mid-air to land on her feet. Typically, a vicious cast of Blizzara followed. It was the first time in a long time that he was truly impressed by anyone else’s prowess.

One look at Rude said they shared a mutual appreciation for the show of force.

A tense moment reduced the crowd to murmurs and he nearly took it all back when the fiend caught her off-guard. She went in for a shoulder bash, something she’d done a few times now. The beast read her tell, the grind of her heel and the shift of her torso a dead giveaway. It feinted left, throwing her off balance. The creature was there to catch her with its horns, tossing her across the ring like a rag doll. A few gasps sounded around him as the fighter crashed into the wall with a wet thud.

Rarely one to hold his breath, he was surprised when it caught in his chest. The woman was dazed, slow to get back to her feet. He could see the blood leaking down her shoulder and from a deep gash on her thigh. Just when he thought she might be a goner, she snapped out a dose of Cura and collected herself.

The beast charged again, dashing across the ring with bellowed fury.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he mumbled as he saw her set up for another shoulder bash to counter the oncoming attack.

This time, it seemed, she knew better. Reno caught the sly flick of her wrist, the muted blue glow from her gloves. The beast was so set on repeating its attack, her sleight of hand didn’t even register. It feinted left again and right into an awaiting crag of icy magic. The spell shattered at just the right moment, sending a spectator to his right howling forward, fists raised in the air.

With a smirk, Reno said, “Clever girl. You know, I’m pretty sure she’d at least get a second look.”

“Still thinking about that recruiting kickback?”

“You heard them. Find a viable candidate, get a little bonus. They get signed, even better.” He scratched his jaw in thought. “I’m also getting sick of the excessive workload with our newly reduced ranks.”

“And imagine what a fighter like that would mean for us if shit ever hits the fan again.”

“You genius.” He clapped his partner on the shoulder. “That’s exactly right.”

Rude gave him a small smile, likely appreciating the compliment. An ear-splitting roar drew his gaze back to the arena where the beast was suffering beneath a barrage of leaping kicks that staggered it thoroughly. Likely sensing her advantage, the fighter culminated her attack with a hard-hitting somersault. A sickening crack rang out as her feet connected with the fiend’s neck. When it went down, it did not rise again.

Victory fanfare chimed from the speakers, the crowd nearly covering the sound with their enthusiastic screaming. The fighter simply dusted off her skirt and stretched like she’d just finished an easy jog around the block. _Clever girl, indeed_.

Reno turned to Rude with a grin. “You thinking what I’m thinkin’?”

“Gonna go out on a limb and say probably not.”

“Ha-ha,” he snarked. “I’m thinking we set up a little exchange. See what else she’s got up her sleeve.”

Rude gave him a look. “You don’t mean...”

“Oh, that’s exactly what I mean. C’mon, partner. Let’s have a little fun.”

* * *

**_T_** ifa cleaned herself up in the small room outside the arena. As the adrenaline drained from her veins, she found exhaustion quickly taking its place. Bruises were already forming, the worst of them turning her shoulder an angry purple ringed with yellow discoloration. Her lip was split and the gash on her thigh had barely knitted closed with healing materia in the ring. It would be a while for these injuries to fully heal.

This was reckless. The match was sobering, a wake-up call. Time to get a handle on this addiction of hers. She dabbed a cotton swab over her lip, wincing as the alcohol singed the sensitive nerves. A couple of scratches on her face required attention as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to mess with the wound on her leg. Tossing her used supplies in the waste bin, she moved to the vending machine where she purchased a potion to help dull the throbbing pain raking through her body. As she popped the top, the door swung open with a creak.

“You okay?” Chocobo Sam’s deep timbre set her at ease.

She met him a few weeks back after a particularly big win. He approached her in this very room, congratulating her and going on about how he liked to sponsor fighters now and then. She could tell there was an edge to the offer, some unspoken competition on his mind. When she later saw him arguing with a beautiful woman in a kimono who liked to sponsor his opponents, it made more sense.

While she initially turned Sam down, she couldn’t afford this match on her own. And the prize was enough to upgrade some things at the bar and help cover an unexpected medical expense for Marle. Asking for his help was difficult, but a necessary sacrifice.

“I’m all right,” she said, turning toward him. “Thanks for sponsoring my entry for this match.”

He laughed as she chugged her potion. “You sure you want to thank me? Those bruises look painful as hell.”

“These?” Tifa shrugged, grimacing when the motion sent fire racing across her shoulder. “They’re nothing. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I sure am glad you reached out. Just won me a hefty payout. Speaking of, there’s another special match next week. You interested?”

“Can I get back to you on that?”

“Sure thing, Ava.” Sam tipped his hat. “Take care of yourself now, you hear?”

“I will.”

Sam set her cut from the night on the table. “Oh, and if you change your mind about the other thing, let me know.”

An invitation to be presented to the Don of Wall Market like a prize Chocobo. _No thank you._ Instead, she told him, “I’ll let you know.”

As he left her alone, she realized her answer was a way of keeping things open. One of those early lessons for life on the ground floor. _Never know when you might need a wildcard_. That option, however, was perhaps the least appealing thing she could imagine. The last resort if she ever needed intel and nothing more.

With a slow gait, she collected her winnings and made her way to the elevator for the long ride up. This was always the most difficult part of fighting in the arena, the aftermath of starstruck fans who sometimes got a little too friendly with her. She braced herself as the doors opened. A couple of people clapped her on the shoulder, jolting pain through her body. Others commented on how well she fought or told her their favorite part of the match. She nodded her thanks and darted for the exit, uninterested in the attention.

The street was oddly empty in contrast, most of the enthusiasts still in the colosseum lobby or watching the fight that followed hers. Tifa wrapped her arms around herself to fight off the chill. She almost always made a break for the Sector Seven slums as quickly as she could, but she felt like she could use a drink. And not one that came with the potential of more scheming and arguing over plans.

Diverting from her path, she took an alleyway to her left. The decision came with immediate regret as she sensed someone watching her. The hair on the back of her neck rose, adrenaline spilling into her veins once again. Midway through she risked a glance over her shoulder, finding the alley dark and empty. Despite her slight limp, she picked up the pace only to bounce off of a chest.

“That was quite a show you put on,” the owner of the chest told her.

She lifted her eyes, finding a bearded face she didn’t recognize looming over her. The man’s cold brown eyes fixed on her like a blast of winter wind, making her stomach churn. He grabbed her bad shoulder, squeezing until she wanted to cry out. She held her tongue, glaring at him.

He stared back.

Finding the resolve to speak, she said, “Let me go.”

“Ask nicely.” A sick smirk twisted across his lips. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”

Bile rose in her throat at the implication of his words, but she used it to harness a nasty tone as she repeated herself. “I said, let me _go_. ”

The grip on her shoulder remained and he dared to lean closer. “Afraid I can’t do that. You see—”

Not interested in finding out what he had to say, she snapped. She lifted her arm, knocking his hand from her shoulder. In his brief moment of shock that followed, she caught his jaw with a right hook. Thrown off-balance, he crashed into the concrete wall with a groan. She stepped around him, only to have him latch onto her leg.

There were only a couple of reasons she ever fought. To save someone she loved or to defend herself. Or, as of late, to blow off steam in a way that wouldn’t harm anyone who didn’t deserve it. That was beside the point. This stranger was proving to be a threat and she wasn’t about to be another victim of Wall Market’s seedier side. She whirled on him with a kick to the gut. A kick he was expecting.

The man caught her foot and twisted, bringing her down. Pain lanced through every place that connected with the ground. As he crawled toward her, she brought her forehead into his with fury, a move that he didn’t expect. Her teeth sang with the impact but she got to her feet, watching as he cupped his face.

“Help!” he suddenly howled.

 _Help_? _He_ was attacking _her,_ not the other way around. She moved quickly, taking advantage of whatever the hell he was doing. The alley opened into a quiet courtyard, just wide enough to give her an upper hand if he followed and tried to fight with her again. She glanced back to see if he was indeed following, surprised to find two men standing over him.

The suited figures helped him to his feet and she saw the man point in her direction. They exchanged a few words she couldn’t catch and her assailant ran off in the opposite direction. Not wanting to look a gift Chocobo in the beak, she turned forward to the task of determining which alley led back to the main drag. She wasn’t in the mood for a drink any longer.

“Stop right there,” a deep voice commanded.

Tifa sighed loudly, unhappy to hear two sets of footsteps drawing near. This night was getting out of hand. She started to the left, not heeding whoever told her to stop.

“I believe my partner said ‘ _stop,’_ ” another voice snapped.

Rolling her eyes, she pivoted. “Look, he attacked me. I was defending myself.”

The two men stopped at the edge of the courtyard, illuminated by the dim light from overhead. They were a menacing presence, both tall and flawlessly dressed in sleek black suits. _Turks._ The word clanged through her mind, bringing dread with it. She glanced from one to the other, waiting.

The one with wild red hair spoke first. “Well, that’s not what _he_ said.”

His associate grunted in agreement.

“And what, exactly, did he have to say for himself?”

“He said you attacked him,” the man with shades commented.

“Caused a threat to public order,” the other added. “We take those pretty seriously.”

“I bet you do,” she replied with an acerbic laugh. The deadpan she received in response cut her short. She fumbled. “Even if I was somehow a threat to public order, he’s gone now. I can’t attack him, so I’ll just be on my way.”

The redhead laughed in a short burst. “And how do we know you won’t go causing any more trouble?”

“Sure looks like you’ve already caused a ruckus,” his partner said, waving a hand at her injuries.

Her pulse raced. These two were already in agreement on something and she felt like a pawn in whatever scheme was afoot. The truth of why she looked so rough wouldn’t matter. Whatever they were up to, she knew better than to try and argue her way out of it. Her hand twitched, the movement drawing a pair of blue eyes.

“Hey, partner?” The man glanced from her hand to her overall stance as it adjusted. He tapped his weapon against his shoulder. “Do you feel threatened? ‘Cause I sure as hell do.”

The other man only cracked his knuckles.

 _So that’s how this is going to be?_ With that, Tifa knew, without a doubt, they weren’t letting her go. Fighting her way out of it was highly unappealing. Not only was she in no condition, but Barret would have her head for this. It would draw the eye of the enemy right to their doorstep. She had to think of a way out.

Willing herself to calm down, she relaxed her stance. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble. I’ve had a long night and I just want to get home.”

“And where is home?” the chattier of the two asked.

She sized him up then. Lanky, but likely much stronger than he looked. Feral eyes to match his sharp tongue. A plunging neckline exposing a well-muscled chest that confirmed her suspicions about his strength. If she weren’t already hurting, she might be able to take him alone. But her battered body begged her not to do this.

“I believe he asked you a question,” his partner said.

Tifa yanked her eyes to him. Tall, broad-shouldered, and likely _very_ strong. He was calmer and it somehow made him seem even more lethal. With his eyes hidden, she couldn’t read him as well. Together, they would pose a very real threat. And she couldn’t tell them where she lived.

 _Think, think, think. Yes!_ “ I’m new in town. Staying at the inn.”

They exchanged a look, another bout of laughter from the wildcard. “I smell bullshit. You?”

“Definitely.”

Growing more irritated by the minute, she finally barked, “What the hell do you want from me? I’m getting tired of whatever this game is.”

That sucked the humor right out of things. The men straightened up, the redhead fixing her with a flat stare. “Back to making threats, I see.”

When he looked at her hands again, she realized they were balled up into fists. Tension straightened all her limbs painfully, her posture inching toward aggressive. No one moved as the charged silence of the courtyard somehow drowned out the chaotic sounds of Wall Market.

The man in the glasses moved first. A swift attack that she barely dodged. Instinctively, she knew to focus on his partner next. Sure enough, his mag rod crackled to life as he took a swing at her ribs. The lightning-quick movement nearly caught her off-guard even though she’d anticipated it. She ducked, feeling the static building in her hair from the near-miss.

Tifa rolled, coming up hastily and taking a defensive position. Another look between the men. What was happening?

One of them struck again, a blur of red hair and blue light careening by. She swiveled and swept her foot at the last second, tripping him just before he could take a swing at her back. Surprise registered as he fumbled but easily righted himself. They faced off once more, fire in his eyes.

"Ooh, she is quick," the readhead sang. 

“But not quick enough,” the other boasted, grabbing her from behind. She should have seen that move coming.

Tifa stomped down on his in-step and sent the back of her head into his chin, the difference in height preventing her from hitting a better target. It hurt like hell, but it worked. The grip on her biceps disappeared and she dodged an incoming attack from the redhead. Swirling to face them, she noted that his partner hung back, aggravated and rubbing his jaw.

The fight became a game after that. Very few hits landed and most were easily dodged on both sides. It went on that way for a while, long enough that she got the impression they weren’t trying to hurt her at all. In fact, it seemed as though they were testing her, trying to get a read on her skills. With no real threat she found she was too tired for this, her mouth was dry and her stomach grumbled with hunger. Reaching her limit, she stood in the middle of the courtyard with her hands raised.

“Enough,” she panted.

The reply was smug as his electric blue eyes trailed over her. “You surrender?”

“Cut the shit.”

His brows raised. “Oh-ho, the lady has claws.”

“I think we’ve learned enough,” his partner said evenly.

“You’re probably right. Drinks?”

 _Drinks? What the hell?_ Confused, she only stared at him, wondering just what in Gaia this was all about. Warmth seeped from her lip and she wiped fresh blood on the back of her gloved hand, annoyed that all her work cleaning up was ruined.

“Whoops, seems we got a bit carried away,” the smug one said.

His partner fished the purple pocket square from his suit and held it out her way. She gave him a wary look as he drew closer, further extending it to her. When she still didn’t take it, he said, “Don’t worry, I have plenty.”

Tifa quickly snatched the handkerchief, dabbing away the blood. Unsure whether to keep the item or hand it back, she tucked it through her belt loop and thanked him awkwardly.

He tipped his chin down once and said, “What my partner means is, we’d like to have a talk with you.”

She furrowed her brows. “Now you want to talk?”

“You’ve proven worthy of a chat, babe,” the other chimed in.

Bewildered, she glanced between them and tilted her head. “Worthy of a chat?”

“C’mon, we’ll buy you a drink. Our way of compensating you for the charade.”

The situation seemed to grow more perplexing by the minute. She wanted to tell them to screw off and make her way back home, but she felt not hearing them out might cause more trouble. And what if they followed her? She wanted a drink, after all, and she needed to throw them off her trail. Hesitantly, she decided on her course of action.

“Fine. One drink,” she replied firmly. “And don’t call me babe.”

“You got it, babe,” came the sarcastic reply.

* * *

**_R_** eno couldn’t help his laughter as the fighter glared daggers at him. She certainly held her own in the play fight they staged. Though she didn’t know them, she anticipated a few of their moves and proved her speed. The fact that she was at a disadvantage from her brutal match only solidified his thinking. She would indeed make a good candidate.

A snarky tone interrupted his thoughts, “You can call me Tifa or nothing at all.”

“I knew that name was bullshit,” he said without thinking.

“What name?”

Rude shot him a look. “Nothing. Shall we?”

Reno swept a hand toward the alleyway on the right. It led to his favorite dive bar, somewhere no one would hear their little conversation and even if they did, they’d be too shit-faced to remember it. He stalked down the path, Rude and Tifa in tow.

The stale smell of booze hit him like a brick to the face as he slipped into the dingy establishment. Neon lights in the shape of cocktail glasses flashed over the bar, toasting each other. The overhead lights were dim, barely illuminating a range of patrons of all ages, each hammered and talking loudly.

A wordless tilt of Reno's head gave Rude the signal, his partner weaving through the crowd, scanning the establishment for a vacancy to occupy. When Tifa followed, he turned back to the bar and put in an order for the trio.

Once he had three beers in hand, he searched the room for his partner. He stood out like a well-dressed sore thumb amidst this group. Winding through clusters of chatty patrons, Reno joined them in the corner. He held a bottle toward Rude to free up a hand, separating the two he held in his left. Tifa claimed the brew he offered and took a healthy swig.

“Right, say whatever it is you have to say,” she shouted over the noise.

Reno shushed her, earning another glare. “First things first, this is Rude.”

“Sorry, where are my manners?” she said, her tone saccharine.

Reno chuckled. “No, this,” he waved a hand at his partner, “is Rude.”

A rosy hue spilled onto her cheeks. She took a sip before she spoke again. “Oh, that’s his _name_.” Tifa gave Rude an apologetic look. “Sorry, Rude.”

Rude just shrugged and took his own healthy swig.

“I’m Reno,” he said with a mock salute.

“Great. Now that we’ve established who everyone is, what was that all about back in the alley?”

Her spunk intrigued him. He rolled on, “We’ve been tasked with keeping an eye out for anyone who might be of interest to our organization.”

Tifa went a few shades paler, her eyes darting as if plotting an escape route.

Rude stepped in. “Your skills caught our eye. You’re quite the fighter.”

She relaxed visibly as she said, “And what’s that matter to you?”

“Threats to public order, remember?” Reno drawled. Watching her tense again was worth it.

“I already told you, I’m not a threat. I fight at the arena for sport, that’s it.”

“We know,” Rude interjected.

“We saw your performance earlier. You’ll have to forgive our methods back in the alley, but we needed to be sure you were as good as you seemed.”

“Wait...” Realization flashed across her features. “Did you send that man after me?”

The setup gave them a multitude of necessary information. Not only did they discover she was well balanced, neither a pushover nor a loose cannon, but it gave them an excuse to interfere. If things went wrong, it would seem as if they were preserving the peace.

He couldn’t very well admit that, so he offered a short explanation. “Only to get a read on the situation. You were never in any danger.”

Anger limned her eyes, setting them ablaze. “Seriously?”

She moved to set down her beer and leave, but Reno caught her wrist before she could do either. Tifa tried to free her arm, her eyes fierce as she met his gaze.

“Hear us out,” he told her soothingly.

She tensed but stopped struggling. He dropped her wrist, hoping she wouldn’t deck him.

“You have two minutes,” she declared. Despite the sharp tone, the fire in her eyes waned.

Rude cleared his throat. “We’re on the hunt for qualified candidates. Are you familiar with Shinra’s Department of Administrative Research?”

Her expression remained bland, too disinterested to be authentic. “You mean the Turks.” When Rude nodded, she added, “I’m familiar.”

“We think you might have what it takes to be a valuable asset to our ranks.”

“Provided we work on your tells,” Reno supplied.

Tifa shot him yet another nasty look. “And why would I want to be a part of your... _organization_?”

“Well, for one thing, it pays way better than those deathmatches you’ve been fighting in.” He wanted to laugh but she was still scowling.

“You’ll have a chance to make a true difference. To preserve peace and protect our way of life.”

His partner was so full of shit. Reno tacked on, “And the job is chock full of adventure. Travel, intrigue, you know, the good stuff.”

Tifa chewed her bottom lip. “I did not see this coming. But I’m happy with my life as is.”

 _Damn._ That bonus was so close, yet so far. “You sure about that?”

Tifa only nodded, taking a quick sip. She set the bottle on a nearby ledge. “Thanks for the drink.”

Before he could reply, she slipped into the crowd and disappeared. Dissatisfied with her answer, he moved after her without thinking. Outside, he searched for her retreating figure. 

He spotted her weaving around drunks in the street.“Tifa,” he called after her.

She didn’t stop, but she slowed. It was enough of a sign. He jogged over, snagging a business card from his pocket. Falling in step with her, he held it out.

“If you change your mind, you can reach me here.”

Finally pausing, she eyed the card in his outstretched hand. The tips of her fingers brushed his palm when she reached for the card. Her gaze lifted and he held her stare. Beneath the light of paper lanterns, he noticed the garnet color of her irises, the gemstone hue unlike anything he’d ever seen. Beautiful eyes, he thought uselessly. Silence stretched between them until her fingers finally left his palm.

“I probably won’t,” she said at last. Yet she took the card, tucking it into a pocket as she started forward again.

Reno stood in the street for a long moment, beer still in hand, watching her walk away. His eyes caught on the swish of her long hair, accentuated by a gait so resolved not to give away her slight limp.

Wall Market carried on all around him but he became a rock in the middle of a rushing stream as she faded from his sight. Currents of thought brushed against him as he wondered if he would ever see her again, and why he cared if he did. The thought did not surprise him nearly as much as the vague curiosity he had of her hiding just behind it.

It struck him that she was a true fighter. Not just the sort who could hold her own in a battle arena, but someone who could claw her way out of anything and come out on top.

Someone quite like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. Hopefully, you've enjoyed this start! I'm excited to be working on this one as we head into fall. I've got so much in store for it and can't wait to share.
> 
> Special thanks to **Arisa_K** for being a fantastic beta on this and helping me when my brain doesn't want to word 😂


	2. Persuasion

**_T_** ifa pushed through the doors of Seventh Heaven, cherishing the way the warm atmosphere of the room always put her at ease the moment she arrived. Soft lights, the scent of wood furniture, and lovingly prepared meals with just a hint of liquor. This was truly home. A safe haven in a chaotic world, one that had been particularly turbulent that night.

She was relieved to find the room sparsely occupied. The late-night crowd was dwindling, just a few stragglers taking up a table in the corner. They were chatting animatedly over drinks that were mostly empty, apparently excited for some plans they were hatching. Biggs sat in a barstool, Barret on his left, the two speaking in hushed tones. The bartender who filled in for her twice a week shot her a welcoming smile that quickly faded as Tifa approached the bar.

“Tifa, are you okay?” Tris asked, concern blooming in her emerald eyes.

“I’ll be all right,” she told Tris. 

The answer didn’t seem to soothe, Tris was wringing her hands over her faded apron. Her face grew ashen, matching the hue of her blonde hair. The guys took notice and glanced Tifa’s way as she slipped behind the bar, reaching for a tumbler and a bottle of whisky. 

“What the hell, Tifa?” Barret inquired.

“Was it your shift at Scrap Boulevard? I thought I saw Mick down there,” Biggs mused. “What happened?”

She set the tumbler on the counter and poured two fingers of the amber liquid. “I’m fine, guys. I appreciate the concern.”

“No disrespect, Tifa, but you don’t look fine,” Biggs told her, his voice soft. The worry she found etched on his face settled the shake in her hand. 

“Right now, I just need a drink,” she said as she lifted the glass to her lips, drawing a healthy sip.

The whisky burned its way down, settling in her belly with a warming comfort. Barret’s icy stare, however, took away the momentary pleasure. 

“You were at the colosseum again, weren’t you?” he asked flatly.

“I really don’t want to have this fight again,” she pleaded.

“I told you that shit gets dangerous the higher you rise. When are you gonna learn your lesson?”

Much to her surprise, his tone was less argumentative and more like an elder brother scolding his reckless little sister. It softened her response. “I may well have learned it tonight.”

“Wait, what happened?” Biggs asked curiously, leaning across the bar.

Tris picked up a rag and set out across the room. She busied herself cleaning tables, giving the three of them privacy. 

Tifa sank to her elbows, drawing near so she could whisper across the counter. Drawing out suspense, she let them wait a long minute. “I got my ass kicked,” she finally jested.

Biggs snorted. “We can see that.”

“Reckless damn woman,” Barret grumbled. “Did you win, at least?”

Holding her chin higher, she answered, “I did.” 

“Nice,” Biggs exclaimed—as much as he could in a quiet voice, anyway. “So why are we whispering?”

“Because there’s more,” Tifa admitted. “I had a run-in with Shinra.”

“What?!” Barret’s tone rose gruffly, drawing several pairs of eyes. Feeling the heat, he lowered his voice again. “What the hell happened?”

“I guess a couple of Turks saw my match. I made an…impression.”

“No surprise there,” Biggs commented. “We all know how much ass you can kick.”

The compliment made her grin. “Tha—”

“What kind of _impression_?” Barret interrupted.

“You’ll never believe this,” she told them, hardly able to keep from laughing so she could tell the story. “They actually tried to recruit me. Can you believe that?”

Two sets of eyebrows rose.

“What did you tell them?” Biggs asked.

“I declined, obviously. What else would I say?”

“Uhh, yes?” Barret replied. He scratched the stubble on his chin in consideration.

“Yes?” Tifa repeated, befuddled. 

“It’s damn near too good to be true, Tif. Being on the inside? Think of the intel you could gather, everything you could learn from a position like that.”

The idea worked its way into her mind, startling her. He couldn’t be serious. “And work for the _enemy_ in the meantime?”

“What if you could stop them doing some harm?” Biggs cut in, ever one to think about the greater good.

“Let me get this straight,” she began, giving the two of them a stern look. “One minute, I’m reckless for fighting at the colosseum. The next, you want me to go undercover. With the Turks.” Tifa glanced between them in disbelief and emphasized, “The _Turks_ , for Shiva’s sake.”

Biggs shook his head in solidarity. 

Barret, however, was still deep in contemplation by the look in his eyes. A minute passed in silence, then he spoke up.“Don’t you see?” He leaned even closer, his eyes gleaming in excitement. “The Planet just dropped the perfect opportunity right into our laps. What better way to stop them from bleedin’ it dry than to have someone on the inside working against them.” He took a sip from his beer and carried on, “That’s fate, dammit.”

“It’s something, all right,” Biggs said, eyes on the counter. She knew why he was worried, apart from the obvious.

Unsure what to say at that moment, Tifa drained her glass and sighed. “I’m exhausted. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Barret gave her a nod. “But don’t think I’ll forget about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Tifa quipped, a half-hearted smile on her lips.

She placed her tumbler in the sink with a few other glasses. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t leave quite this much on Tris’s shoulders. But this night was far from normal. A warm shower called her name, her bed sounding like the best thing in the world.

“Tris?” She called across the room, continuing when the bartender caught her gaze. “You okay to close up?”

“Sure thing, Tifa. Get some rest,” Tris replied.

“Thanks. I owe you.” 

Tris shook her head as if to disagree, smiling kindly at Tifa. 

The scrape of a stool had Barret rising to his feet. “I’ll help her out.”

“You’re the best,” she remarked.

She didn’t really think much about the sounds of another stool grazing the floor as she crossed the room and eased back out into the night. Partway back to Stargazer Heights, however, she found a grin curving her lips as Biggs fell into step beside her.

“They’re going to get suspicious if you keep following me home every night like a lost puppy.”

His laughter widened her smile. “I told them I wanted to make sure you got home all right, that no one took advantage of your current state.”

“And are _you_ trying to take advantage of it?”

“No,” he shot back. When she looked his way, his smirk told her otherwise.

She never planned to get tangled up with him, it just sort of happened a few weeks prior. Wedge turned up sick as a dog one night so she volunteered to take his watch shift with Biggs. Once they discovered there were hardly any fiends to deal with, they posted up with a bottle of rum. 

On the way up the stairs, she thought of that evening. Late night conversations brought the realization that Biggs was a good man. He was kinder than anyone else she knew, the first person she felt she could truly connect with since moving to Midgar. And he was an attractive man. When he kissed her, it escalated quickly thanks to their mutual state of inebriation. He was her first and only lover.

Since that night, they did their best to avoid connecting that way. She was afraid it would complicate things within their group and she valued his friendship too much. Every now and then, it became difficult to ignore the magnetic pull between them, as it was in that moment. She opened the door to her small apartment, leaving a gap for him to follow.

The door clicked shut behind Biggs and he leaned against it. “I hate seeing you hurt like this,” he stated. The crack in his voice threatened to bring everything she suppressed to the surface.

“I told you, I’ll be okay.”

He pushed off the door. “That bruise on your shoulder suggests otherwise. As does the massive cut on your thigh.”

The whisky helped, but her aches and pains were still aggravated. 

Biggs crouched by her sink, digging around in the cabinet beneath. Her supplies were sparse, but she watched as he managed to find a tube of topical pain reliever along with alcohol swabs and a large medicated bandage. With the bounty in his arms, he tilted his head toward the bed. “Sit,” he ordered.

Tifa obliged, perching on the edge of the mattress, her aching feet ending their song of woe. Having him take care of her almost sent her into a place of fear. They were getting too close; she should send him away. But the sight of him looking so concerned created a sense of intimacy she greatly missed in her life. 

He knelt on the carpet, setting the items down. With a gentle touch, he inspected her leg. “You clean this already?”

“I was afraid to,” she admitted. 

Biggs gave her a disapproving look as he unwrapped an alcohol pad. “Thought so.”

She sucked in a breath as he dabbed softly. The second cast of Cura she used after limping into the alley on her way out of Wall Market managed to pull the angry edges of the wound together, thankfully. The pain, however, lingered in a way that sent fire through her limbs. 

Satisfied with his work, Biggs sat back to let the area dry. “I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself at risk to go undercover.”

“Trust me, it’s not at the top of my priorities either. But what if Barret’s right?”

He met her gaze then, all of the apprehension clouding his stormy grey eyes. “The problem is, and I hate to admit it, he is right. It would be invaluable intel.”

She could tell it pained him to say so. Any reply died on her lips, exhaustion tugging at her now that she was sitting. In her silence, his attention returned to her wound as he gingerly applied some of the painkiller around it, careful not to spread any into the cut itself. The large bandage was dressed with antibiotic ointment, a lucky find from the item shop last week. He removed the backing and applied the sticky cloth expertly. 

“Thanks, Biggs. I really appreciate this.”

“No problem,” he replied. 

He stood, taking the trash with him and depositing it into the bin. Before putting away the pain reliever, he squeezed a little extra onto his hand. Kneeling before her again, he reached up to sweep the gel over her battered shoulder. She closed her eyes, grimacing at the contact, but the soothing effects that followed shortly after left her sighing in relief. 

His voice grew huskier as he said, “Are those the sounds of a woman relaxed or a mating call? Kinda hoping for the latter.”

When she peeked at him, she could see the shift in his expression and it took her breath away. “I thought we said we weren’t doing this again.”

“And we don’t have to.”

Always with that kindness and gentle nature. She’d had a rough night and a little physical comfort suddenly appealed. Biggs started to rise and she stopped him, both hands on his shoulders. Her fingers slipped around the leather straps he wore, pulling him in close. Surprise registered in his features, quickly melting as she pressed a kiss to his lips. Any hesitation on his part drifted away, the kiss returned with fervor as the mood shifted between them.

In that moment, she simply stopped caring about all of the complexities, the reasons it wasn’t a good idea. Tifa desired only to lose herself in his touch, drowning all thoughts in the deep well of pleasure that he offered. The leather harness dug into her fingers as her grip tightened, pulling in a frenzy to bring him even closer. His lips trailed away from hers, brushing against her jaw as he kissed his way down the side of her neck. She tipped her head back and arched into him with a moan that sent reality careening into the shadows. 

Tomorrow. She’d deal with everything else tomorrow.

‘ ‘ ‘

Biggs left her in the early hours of the morning, keeping to the cover of darkness to avoid being spotted by prying eyes. Tifa dozed fitfully after his departure, her bruises creating a multitude of pressure points that zinged when she readjusted. As sunlight crept through the curtains, she gave up on the idea of sleeping in.

The scent of fresh coffee was already rich in the air as she made her way up the stairs to Seventh Heaven. If that wasn’t strange enough, the smell of eggs and bacon hit next, her stomach immediately letting her know how empty it was. She wondered if Biggs was up to something until she remembered he didn’t have a key. The rise and fall of her hopes distressed her.

As she pushed through the doors, she caught sight of Barret hovering over the stove. Marlene was perched on a stool doodling, judging by the movement of her right arm. When she heard footfalls, the girl turned with a beaming smile.

“Tifa!” Marlene shot off the stool and ran over, waving around a drawing of Barret in an apron. “Look what I made!”

She scanned the paper with a grin. “We never really see him like this, do we?” When Tifa winked, it earned her girlish giggles.

“Nope! That’s why I made it extra special.” Her little finger jabbed at the flourishes, small stars and hearts around her father’s stick figure.

“It’s great, Marlene!” 

Barret turned to the bar, setting dishes out in front of three stools. “Better come and get it while it’s hot,” he told them as he set about scooping the breakfast items from pan to plate.

Marlene bounded across the room again, climbing into a stool with excitement. 

Tifa scuffed her feet as she moved to claim a seat of her own. “What’s all this for?” she said to Barret curiously.

“No reason, just felt like you could use a treat.”

 _Uh-huh._ It had nothing to do with the fact that he was buttering her up to do his bidding with the Turks, she was sure. Eyes narrowed, she gave him a once over. “Is that all?”

“Well, yeah. Dig in,” he insisted, gesturing at her plate. 

The breakfast did look delicious. She wasn’t about to miss out on a good, home-cooked meal that she didn’t have to make, so she picked up her fork and scooped up some eggs.

Barret eventually joined the girls, crunching on a slice of bacon. They sat in happy silence, eating together for a moment. It almost seemed to be without ulterior motives, but that didn’t last. “So, you think about it anymore?”

Tifa took a bite of bacon anyway, chewing as she formed her reply. “I was a little tired. I didn’t give it much thought.”

“What’s she supposed to think about?” Marlene asked from the middle seat, her head turning from one adult to the other.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweetie. Daddy and Tifa are just talking about grown-up stuff.”

A serious look furrowed the child’s brows. “Like if we can get a kitten?”

Barret’s features shifted, fighting his impatience for the daily request to display a warm-hearted softness reserved for the requester. “We already talked about that, remember?”

“You said you’re allergic and you won’t be able to sleep ‘cause you’ll sneeze all night…but daddy, I was thinking. You don’t have to be in the same house! You could always sleep outside,” Marlene urged. 

Tifa barely held back a snicker. 

Barret’s lips formed a thin line. It took him a moment to reply, “You really gonna make me sleep out in the cold?”

Marlene seemed to consider. “Umm, well...I guess not,” she finally said. 

“How ‘bout this. You can go visit Wedge and all his kitties later today, okay honey?”

“Really?” she asked, looking up with renewed excitement. 

“Sure, just be a good girl and finish your breakfast. Let daddy and Tifa have a talk.”

Satisfied with the answer, Marlene put her focus back on the eggs. Munching happily, she seemed to pay them no mind.

“I just think we’d be crazy not to take advantage of something like this,” Barret said between bites.

“I get why you think that, I really do.”

“But?”

“I just think there are also a lot of complications,” she stated bleakly. “Like where am I supposed to live?”

Barret seemed surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t very well work for Shinra and come home to the slums every night. And I certainly can’t come to work at the bar. I’d lead them right to all of you.”

He waved his fork as if to emphasize her point. “That’s true. You could get a place topside, though. I’m sure they pay well enough. We could give Tris a temporary promotion, too.”

The thought ricocheted. Living topside would be bizarre, to say the least, a massive change. One she wasn’t necessarily sure she wanted. “I suppose so,” she replied, her voice small.

“We could set up a way to communicate. Maybe Jessie could meet you up there, what with her family up top and all. Intel swap disguised as a girl’s night or some sh-,” he paused, glancing at a seemingly unaware Marlene, “... stuff.”

It didn’t sound half bad, actually. Then a worrisome thought bubbled to the surface. “But what about the job itself? I’d have to...be one of them. The things they do, Barret.”

“I know, Tif. It’s not you. But it’s for a good purpose in this case.”

She swung her gaze his way, her appetite gone. “Is it though?”

Barret set down his fork and checked that Marlene was still content to ignore them. “Think of the Planet. The lives you’d be saving, even if you might have to—” He mouthed the last of his sentence, _end a few_.

There could be some balance, she realized. And maybe she would get lucky with her assignments as a new recruit, nothing too serious. Another idea popped up, her brows knit together. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves, I think. How do we even know I’d get in or be any good at it?”

Barret gave her a blank stare.

“Just because I can fight well doesn’t mean they’ll take me on.”

“You’re probably right there. I’m guessin’ they’ll put you through a few tests, see if you have the right mindset. I can help you along the way.”

She thought briefly of her spiky-haired childhood friend, momentarily wishing he was around to help her with this. It hit her that she very well might uncover what happened to him if she worked for Shinra. No doubt the Turks and SOLDIER interacted. She’d spent ages wondering if he made it, what he was like now. The curiosity was almost enough to tempt her into joining.

“I see those wheels turning,” Barret commented. “I know I can’t make you do this, Tif, but I hope you’ll at least consider it. It’s for—”

“For the greater good,” she mimicked. “I know, I know. I need to think it over a little more and I’ll let you know this afternoon. Besides, if they’re going to test me I think it’d be best if I healed up from last night’s battle, don’t you agree?”

His features softened. “That’s true, we need you at the top of your game for this to work.”

“No pressure,” she snarked. 

“Daddy?” Marlene interrupted, drawing Barret’s eyes. “Are you and Tifa done talking yet? I’m bored.”

Barret chuckled and patted the girl’s hair. “We are. You finish your breakfast?”

Tifa eyed the mostly empty plate. She’d done well. 

“You gotta roll me out of here,” Marlene offered, imitating things the adults in her life often said.

Tifa laughed, the childlike attempt at humor a welcome relief from the serious conversation. She gathered up her plate, depositing the crumbs in the trash before she collected the other two dishes. As she worked on cleaning up pans and plates, she wondered if she was just being weak. 

Every time a critical mission came up, she had a tendency to avoid involvement. She often left the dirty work to the others, choosing to work things out in the ring instead. But Zangan hadn’t just trained her to defend herself and challenge opponents. He also trained her to think like a fighter. What if she could put that training to use and, in the process, help stop an evil organization, maybe save a few lives?

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Barret’s hand tapped her arm. “Gonna take Marlene to visit Wedge and his cats. Catch you later.”

“All right, have fun,” she said over her shoulder.

There was much to be considered.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**_R_** eno nursed one hell of a hangover. Two months since the close call with an executioner. Still alive and wanting to feel it, he talked Rude into raising hell at one of their favorite pubs, drowning it all at the bottom of a bottle. The early morning arrived rapidly but passed slowly, a lull between assignments leaving them with too much time in the office. He sat at his desk, sketching a lewd scene onto a sticky note when the phone rang.

Wincing from the sudden noise, he fumbled the handset and sent it clattering onto the surface of the desk. Picking it up again, he wedged it between his shoulder and face so he could continue working on his project. 

“Administrative Research,” he answered flatly.

“Reno?” A familiar voice asked.

“Speaking.”

“It’s…it’s Tifa.” 

A little surprised, he furrowed his brows and waited.

“You know, from the arena last week?”

“I remember, yo. What’s up?”

“I was wondering…what if I reconsidered the offer?”

His hopes for a bonus soared again, but he contained his tone. “Thinking about all the fun you‘re missing out on?”

“Something like that,” she answered. 

“Can you come by the Shinra building?” He scanned the calendar on his open laptop. “Say around two this afternoon?”

“I can make that work,” she replied.

“Great. Come prepared for a fight.”

He didn’t give her time to reply as he scooped up the phone and set it back on the switch hook. Putting the finishing touches on his doodle, he swiped it from the stack and popped over to Rude’s desk.

“Hey, partner,” he said, his voice chipper. 

Rude looked up suspiciously. “Guess the coffee finally kicked in.”

“Just got an exciting call, actually.”

“From?”

“Tifa.”

“No shit,” he said with incredulity. “What did she want?”

“To reconsider. She’ll be here around two. Guess I have some work to do.”

“You better get on that, you know the Director isn’t a fan of surprises.”

Reno gave his partner a two-fingered salute in agreement, sneakily applying the sticky note to the outside of Rude’s desk with his opposite hand. Without giving himself away, he made for Tseng’s office, eager to share the news.

His hopes were dashed when he caught sight of Heidegger through the glass door. The man’s tank-like back was to him, his arms waving about in emphasis of whatever point he was making. If there was anyone in this building he hated, it was that man. The last thing he wanted was to draw his hateful eyes.

Tseng’s gaze drifted, landing on Reno as he lingered outside the door. He gave a curt nod. _I’ll see you in a moment_. 

Reno returned the gesture and slouched, hands in his pockets as he ambled back to his desk. He busied himself with the closing notes on a report from their last mission and was sorting through e-mails when Heidegger’s gruff voice floated through the office.

“Just get it done,” the man said as he left in a huff.

A moment later, Tseng emerged. His mask of calm was mostly in place, but Reno spotted a crack. Things were tense between Tseng and the command, still. A deliberate pace carried his boss across the room where he stopped in front of Rude’s desk, as if to task him with something. Instead, he plucked Reno’s sticky note from the front of the desk. 

“It would appear that someone has been busy with arts and crafts today. That _someone_ left you a gift,” Tseng said to Rude as he set the drawing atop Rude’s keyboard.

Tseng shot Reno a glare. 

Behind Tseng, Rude rolled his eyes so hard Reno thought they might fall out of their sockets. 

Reno choked off a laugh, clearing his throat into his fist.

A tense moment passed, but Tseng turned back to Rude. Reno let out a breath, fighting off his subsiding laughter. 

“I need you to clean up your last report,” Tseng said. “It will be presented to the President in this afternoon’s meeting and Heidegger would like it to make an argument for putting down the last of the unrest in the slums.”

“Our response was measured, any further action would be unnecessary.” Rude was noticeably more forthright than usual in his reply, likely due to the lingering exasperation from the juvenile prank.

“I don’t disagree. The order remains, nonetheless.”

“Understood,” Rude responded.

Tseng turned on his heel, approaching Reno’s desk next. His eyes were cold, his lips tight even as he asked, “Do you have something for me?”

Reno lounged back in his chair, fingers lacing together behind his head. “I have a candidate.”

Tseng’s brows rose ever so slightly. “Are you prepared to carry out the next steps?”

“Yes, sir. I just needed your blessing.”

“Name?”

 _Shit._ He should have gotten her surname. “Tifa, sir. A hell of a fighter, quick on her feet, calculated.” In annoyance at his slip on the name, he blurted, “You should see the moves she’s got.”

“And where did you witness these... _moves_?”

A detail he was strategically trying to avoid. Reno knew Tseng was skeptical of what he considered street brawlers in Wall Market but hoped by now he could trust their judgment. “The Colosseum. Upper-tier match against a pretty wicked beast. But don’t worry, we made sure she could hold her own with skilled fighters, too.”

“A Kenny Kickback?” Tseng clearly was not unfamiliar with the unique schemes of Rude and Reno.

“Nothing too rough, though.”

Tseng nodded. “A foundation, I suppose. Put her to the test, see if she has what it takes. Let me know what you find.”

“Copy that,” Reno said with a grin.

With nothing further to be discussed, Tseng pivoted, returning to his office. Midway, he paused and tossed a reminder to Rude. “We’ll need the revised report by lunch.” He did not wait for a reply.

As soon as they were alone, Rude held up the sticky note and fixed Reno with a withering look. “ _Really_?” 

Reno finally let loose, cackling at the way things played out. When he recovered, he said, “Hey, man. Just keeping you on your toes.”

“Right,” Rude said with a gloomy expression. He glanced toward the doodle again. “What the hell is this even supposed to be, anyway?”

“Ah, art is subjective my friend. Figure it out.”

A moment later, Rude glowered. “Gross,” he mumbled, crushing the note in his hand and tossing it into the trash.

Another bout of laughter had Reno doubled over. Some days, he really amused himself. 

Finally bringing his focus back to his computer, he set about preparing for Tifa’s arrival that afternoon. There was a simulator to book, a test to design, and documents to draft. He ended up working straight through lunch, too excited about it all to take a break. Impatience settled in an hour out from her appointment. He couldn’t wait to see how she would perform. 

With everything settled, he lounged back at his desk. Thoughts of what he’d do with the bonus drifted in as he considered his enthusiasm. While he didn’t doubt the extra gil as motivation, that vague curiosity for Tifa hid in the shadows once again. His mind toyed with possibilities, pulling at threads. What was it about her?

He was more than willing to find out.

  
  



	3. Evaluation

_**T**_ ifa stood on the steps of the massive Shinra building feeling infinitesimal. The knot in her stomach tightened painfully and she willed herself to climb the last few steps to the glass doors before her. It was time to slip on the mask she'd be wearing for the foreseeable future.

A public security officer escorted her most of the way, allowing her a moment here and there to ogle the elegant lobby and technological advances that littered it. Tifa tried not to let the show of force impress her, reminding herself of the way Shinra paid for all of these advances. After what seemed like a very long elevator ride, the officer left her with a woman in a suit waiting outside the secured doors of the Administrative Research Department.

"You must be Tifa," the woman said.

"Yes, Tifa Lockhart."

"Perfect. I'm Indra. I'll be helping you get started."

Indra held out her hand and Tifa took it. Though she was a couple of inches shorter, she was quite strong judging by her grip. She gave Tifa a smile that made her warm brown eyes shine and turned for the glass doors, holding a keycard out to a pad left of them.

"So what do you do here?" Tifa asked, trying to keep her nerves out of her voice.

"I'm part of the support team," Indra replied. Her wavy onyx hair bounced with each step as she passed another reception desk and veered left down a hall lined with closed doors. "We keep the field agents operating at the top of their game with intel, research, and anything else they need on the ground."

Tifa could hear pride brimming in each word Indra spoke. She wondered how someone so pleasant could be involved in something so dark. The hallway wasn't helping. The quiet chill of the air seemed to suggest this wing was for interrogations. Her nerves bristled again.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Sorry for the walk, the other rooms still need to be tended."

 _Tended_? She wondered if that meant scrubbed of blood, sterilized from any hint of the horror that likely went on behind the closed doors.

"Here we are," Indra said, holding a door open for Tifa.

With a steadying breath, she slipped into the room. An empty desk with two chairs on either side sat in the middle of the bright space. Fluorescents flickered overhead, the faint buzz of them distracting. Unsure which side to take, she waited.

"You can have a seat on the right."

Of course, the chairs facing the large mirror on the wall. She briefly wondered if anyone was watching. The chair was cold against her thighs when she sat. Goosebumps sprang up on her legs and she wiped her palms against them.

Indra placed the folder she'd been carrying in front of her. "Just need you to fill this out. Basic info first and...please be honest," she warned with a stern look. "We'll know if you aren't."

"Got it," Tifa confirmed.

"The following section is part of the exam, answer as best you can. There's no time limit, per se, but the faster you can go, the better it'll look."

She could only nod, stomach twisting.

"Reno will be by when you've completed this. He'll take you to the next step." Indra turned for the door but glanced back. "Good luck."

She disappeared before Tifa could thank her, the door clicking shut. With frozen fingers, she reached for the pen sitting beside the folder. Lifting the cover, she found a stack of paper inside. She was surprised by the old-fashioned feel of pen and paper in the midst of a place so set on progression. Maybe they didn't yet want any record of her presence here.

The process of filling out her personal information was easy if a little painful. Mother: deceased. Father: deceased. Place of Birth: somewhere that had burned to the ground. The finer details gave her pause, made her wonder if it was wise to reveal so much to enemy eyes. The reality was, they'd be able to get the information now whether she gave it to them or not. Better to give the impression that she was an open book. Except for one thing.

When she put down the date she left Nibelheim for Midgar, she wrote ' _August 0002_.'

The exam itself was intense, composed of scenarios with multiple questions. She knew her answers would lead them to make assumptions about her personality and ability to do the job. It required her to think the way they might, to answer the way she thought they would expect. Further in, the questions became simpler in verbiage but far more difficult to answer.

' _Are you willing to bear true faith and allegiance to Shinra Electric Power Company?' ...Why would anyone?_ But she wrote ' _yes.'_

' _Are you capable of taking a life to preserve the integrity and security of the Company?' ...No._ But she wrote ' _yes_.'

On it went until her hand ached and her legs felt numb. Several times she glanced at the mirror. The eyes of a traitor stared back at her each time.

When she finished the examination, she wondered how anyone would know that she was done. There weren't any call buttons or obvious ways for her to reach out. She set the pen down and finally noticed the camera light blinking in the upper corner of the room. Averting her eyes as quickly as possible, she stared blankly at the desk and waited.

A few minutes ticked by. The silence of the room started to ring in her ears until she focused on the buzz of the lights again. She began to bounce her heel on the ground, busied her hands with idle fidgeting. It occurred to her that they might be watching her every move and she stilled.

The door finally opened, startling her despite that she'd been waiting for it. Reno leaned on the frame lazily, but even with the air of indifference he possessed, he practically owned the space with the smugness that accompanied him.

"Lockhart," he drawled in greeting. "All set with that?"

"Pretty sure," she replied with a laugh she wished didn't sound so nervous.

He just smirked and jerked his head. "Great, let's go. You can leave the paperwork for Indra."

Eager to escape the room, Tifa pushed back from the table and followed Reno out into the hall. The shock of his scarlet hair snagged her attention, the contrast of it against the black leather on his shoulders. Her eyes followed the swish of his long tail, noticing the attractive taper of his waist and his bold swagger as she lingered. She wondered vaguely if that reckless, dynamic air carried over into other places.

 _Ugh, no._ She banished the thought as soon as it bubbled up, annoyed by its presence.

"Hoping to get a peek under the hood, were ya?" He hadn't even looked over his shoulder, but she could hear the smirk in his words.

Tifa rolled her eyes, but the playful accusation stirred her nerves into a frenzy. "What? I—No."

"Relax, I'm not judging." He stopped at the elevator, jammed his fist into the button, and looked her way. "I was curious, too. But you have to _earn_ that right, babe."

 _Oh_. Relief flooded her chest with his clarification, but the pet name furthered her annoyance. She set her jaw, trying to focus instead on the fact that from the sound of it, she was undergoing the normal procedure. Reno must have been taken to the same type of room when he was a recruit. She let that soothe her.

"So, what's next?" she asked.

"You'll see." His wicked grin unsettled her.

The elevator chimed, its doors sliding open. Reno waited for her to step in, following on her heels. The front corner beckoned, promising safety, but she miscalculated in her haste. She could sense how close he was standing. Tried and failed to ignore his breath on her shoulder and the brush of his arm as he reached around her.

"What the hell?" she barked before she could stop herself.

He just pressed the button for the sixty-first floor. The blush that spilled onto her cheeks from his proximity irked her.

"Could've just asked me to get it," she grumbled.

His cocky laugh had her itching to shove her elbow back into his stomach. It was maybe a couple of inches away, it could even look accidental...but she couldn't compromise the entire mission on putting him in his place, no matter how appealing the thought.

Instead, Tifa spent the uncomfortably silent elevator ride biting her tongue and staring straight ahead.

On arrival, the doors spread to a room that stole her breath. An atrium with a beautiful tree was centered in the large, two-story level. Employees milled about, enjoying meals together and standing in line for the cafeteria. She was surrounded by laughter and smiles, not at all what she expected. It seemed easier to convince herself that Shinra was evil when she'd never been on the inside. Seeing the regular people who made up its staff gave her pause. Made her question what she knew.

That was a thought for later when she was safely tucked away beneath the plate. Exhaustion pulled at her fraying nerves.

"We're headed up," Reno informed her, continuing his seemingly uncharacteristic, curt demeanor.

She followed him up a spiral staircase to the second level. A coffee shop was nestled in the corner, the scent heavenly and filling the air. She longed for a cup but she was losing her guide. She jogged a few steps to catch up.

Reno came to a stop in front of a dome situated to the side of the level. "Combat simulator," he said with a nod toward it. "You'll be battling some standard baddies so we can assess your skill level and technique. Director isn't a fan of going based on brawling matches at the Colosseum."

Tifa couldn't help the withering glare she gave. But as she went inside and watched the three dimensional arena come to life, that sense of bravado seemed to dissipate. Tifa fought everything they threw at her as though her life depended on it. As though many lives depended on it.

* * *

_**E**_ verything about the combat simulator was a success. Tifa proved to be every bit as good out of the colosseum ring as she was in, leaving him grinning. But he'd seen the fleeting flicker of doubt on her face when he mentioned the next phase of testing. Hoping it was just a case of nerves induced by the promise of interrogation, he reassured her she'd be fine as long as she was honest and sent her home for the day.

Indra was sitting at her desk when he dropped by on the way back to his. She chatted animatedly to someone on her PHS, holding a folder up in her free hand. "That's what I _tried_ to explain but—"

Reno plucked the folder from her hand and received a glare for the interruption.

"You know how it goes," Indra said pointedly to whoever was on the other end of the line, still staring at him. "Hey, can I give you a call back in a few? Great, thanks."

He leafed through the paperwork inside, casually leaning against a partition. "Didn't have to hang up on my account."

"I know better than that."

Reno looked up, stifled a laugh as he recalled the sound effects he'd hammed up the last time he caught her in the middle of a call. "Had I known you were on with fucking Heidegger, I wouldn't have gone so over-the-top."

"Yes, you would have."

He rolled his back with a shrug. "Yeah, I totally would have."

Indra continued to stare over a murderous smile.

It was a wonder they never managed to get her out of the office, she'd have been a real asset. He cleared his throat. "How'd you get out of that one, anyway?"

She gave him a shrug, unwrapped a piece of candy from a dish on her desk. "I told him I was reviewing some footage from the Honeybee Inn, adding to the blackmail files."

A burst of laughter escaped. "Quick thinking. Maybe we should put you in the field," he jested.

Indra wrinkled her nose. "You know I'm happier behind the scenes. That file is all yours, by the way."

As pushed away from her cube, he snarked, "You're the best desk potato we've got."

A piece of candy whizzed by his head as he retreated to his desk.

Rude watched with a smirk. "She's going to take you out one of these days."

"Probably." He grinned and returned to reading over the file, resting back on the edge of his desk.

"How did she fare outside the ring?" Rude asked, likely realizing what the file contained.

"Pretty fucking well," he said, even as he kept scanning. "Huh, that's not what I expected.

Rude gave him a questioning look as they locked eyes.

"From Nibelheim."

His partner grunted. "She wasn't there…"

"Nah, left just before."

"Damn, that's some luck."

"You can say that again, fucking lucky as hell."

"She have any family there?"

Reno flipped the page he was reading. "That'd be a no. Looks like they're no longer with us."

"I guess that's for the best, considering."

Wide eyes snapped back up. "That's cold, man. Even for us."

"You know that's not what I meant," he replied impatiently.

"Right, sure. Gonna have to inform the boss you're in dire need of rehabilitative training."

"And why is that?" Tseng asked, his voice startling Reno into closing the file.

Reno gestured theatrically toward Rude, the timbre of his voice matching the dramatic bravado. "He's gone dead inside. A real tragedy."

"That only implies he's reached the pinnacle of professionalism," Tseng replied evenly.

Rude had this smug ass look on his face and it instantly got under his skin.

"Just don't delve into Hojo's level of cold psychopathy—I mean professionalism, okay buddy?" Reno said, "There's no coming back from that."

Tseng abruptly changed the subject before the conversation could devolve any further. "How is the candidate progressing?" he asked, spotting the file.

"We've certainly determined she's no brawler, she's well trained. Her style is weirdly familiar." Reno mulled it over, tapping the file on his knee. "Reminds me of your technique, actually. You know, when you're not nursing tea at your desk and dain to join us in the field."

Irritation flashed across Tseng's face. He really needed to stop jabbing at the man for his promotion, but it was fun to tease him about going soft as an office lackey.

The bait went untouched. "How did she handle the written scenarios?"

"Haven't had a chance to dig in but at first glance, looks promising."

"Good. And did you manage to obtain her full name, at least?"

A bit of a low blow, but he could concede it was a fair ask. "I did. It's Tifa Lockhart, sir."

Tseng seemed to tense then; it was there and gone in a flash so quick he thought he imagined it. "Sounds like you have some clerical work to do." He glanced pointedly toward Reno's desk.

"Yeah, yeah. My favorite."

Tseng rolled his eyes and continued on through the office, his pace brisker than before. Reno wondered about it briefly but chalked it up to the high probability that he was catching a meeting.

Deciding that caffeine would be in order if he were spending the next hour on data entry, he retrieved an energy drink from the vending machine and settled in. Reno thought about a lot of things as he entered Tifa's information into the system. He wondered if growing up in the shadow of a mountain was anything like the oppressive darkness of a plate overhead. If she'd been orphaned young, what sort of trouble there was to get into in a small town. He pictured what it would be like to see Midgar for the first time. Did she feel that there were endless possibilities at her feet? Or could she see the trap they'd sprung for those in the slums?

It was easy to tell himself the consideration was merely to address any potential issues before she entered the final trials of her candidacy. But if he were honest, he'd have to admit that he was always searching for others who were like him.

* * *

_**T**_ he simulated battles felt like second nature given all of her experience in the colosseum and Tifa believed the satisfied grin from Reno likely indicated how well she performed. It nearly felt like a high. Then, he delivered unsettling news as he dismissed her for the day.

Try as she might to avoid it, the fatigue from a long day and concerns for another to follow caught up with her on the train ride home. She sank into a seat and watched the world pass by. Once the train entered the first tunnel, everything became a blur. She closed her eyes, let her mind drift toward the next obstacle in the path to becoming a Turk.

 _A polygraph_.

An indulgent glass of whisky was chief on her list of priorities as Tifa shouldered her way into Seventh Heaven but it wasn't in the cards. Several sets of eyes drifted to her from a corner table and she realized pretty much everyone was there waiting for her return. She wasn't sure if she had the energy to fill them in, but she slid into an open seat anyway.

"Well?" Jessie asked impatiently. Fortunately, she also slid a glass Tifa's way.

With a thankful glance, she accepted the drink with a soothing sip. "It was...an experience."

"Don't leave us hangin'!" Wedge put in.

"Details," Biggs said with a grin. "We need them."

Barret just crossed his arms expectantly as he stood next to them.

Tifa sighed. "Day started with paperwork. The questionnaire was fairly intense and it honestly has me a little worried, but we'll see. The written exam...I did my best, lied a lot. The combat simulator was far easier for the most part. The thing that has me really worried is the polygraph I'm supposed to take tomorrow."

"Shit," Biggs commented.

"You think you're up to that?" Barret asked.

"Honestly?" Tifa swirled the liquid in the tumbler, took another sip. "I have no idea how to prepare for it." She could hear the doubt in her voice and it disappointed her.

"That's what you have us for," Jessie said, placing a hand over Tifa's on the table. Her warm smile helped soothe some of her worries. "With that machine, it all comes down to believing the words you're saying and staying calm. They're not foolproof."

Barret started to pace a little. "So you just have to keep your wits long enough to believe every lie you tell and keep it cool."

"Exactly. I remember my dad had to take one after something fishy went down at work. Of course, he didn't have any reason to lie back then but I did some digging into the process just in case."

Tifa felt light-headed just imagining it. "How do you convince yourself lies are the truth?"

"You either have to decide on an alternate reality for the day and believe it with all you've got. Or teach yourself to control your pulse, breathing, and response, I'm guessing." Biggs looked a bit pale when she glanced his way.

That sounded like a lot. Too much to learn in such a short time. She started to feel things spinning out of control. "Guys, I don't know if I can do this."

"Aw, no Tif, we believe in you!" Wedge offered.

She tried to smile at him in thanks.

Biggs said, "Maybe you could ask yourself a different question before giving your answer, that way you believe the yes or no."

"There are a lot of methods," Jessie added. "You could try that but it might make your reply delayed, which can raise suspicion. You can also picture something that brings you comfort or calms you down. Some people bite the inside of their mouth during the control questions to establish that they are naturally nervous, apparently, or put something in their shoe to distract themselves."

"No need to get carried away, gonna overwhelm the poor girl," Barret chimed in, his hands a comforting weight on her shoulders. "Just remember to breathe, focus on the mission and remember that you're in control of your thoughts."

She reached up to squeeze his hand before he moved away. "Okay, maybe we could practice?"

Jessie cracked a lopsided smile. "Tifa Lockhart, have you ever committed treason against his highest of excellencies, the King of Midgar?"

The table babbled with laughter and arguments about whether or not President Shinra was, in some right, a king of anything.

"King of world destruction, maybe," Barret eventually snarked.

"No, really," Tifa interrupted. "What do you think they might ask?"

Biggs answered first. "Probably things about the past, try and trip you up to see if you were honest when you filled out your paperwork."

Jessie nodded and leaned forward, her face unusually serious. "Tifa, have you been honest in your answers on the questionnaire?"

The expression was almost comical and Tifa laughed nervously. "Yes."

"You're not supposed to react apart from answering," Jessie warned.

"Then maybe don't make silly faces when you ask the question, hm?" Tifa shot back playfully.

"What about Nibelheim?" Biggs queried.

The group stilled. She hadn't thought of that.

"Were you honest about where you're from?" Barret asked.

"Yeah, I was. But when I filled in the date I moved here...I put down that it was in summer, well ahead of what happened."

"You suppose they'll buy that?"

"I hope so…"

Wedge looked concerned. "Did anyone see you...you know, when everything happened?"

A knot formed in her stomach. "Well, I did serve as a guide for the party sent to check on the reactor. Do you think they have a record of that? It's been quite a few years." The memories flooded back in, things she buried and tried not to think about for years. She realized a detail she overlooked. "I did run into a Turk though…"

"Wait, you never told me this part. What happened?" Biggs asked.

She honestly hadn't shared many details about that night with them, only that the town burned at Shinra's hands and how she came to Midgar. The pressure to answer weighed on her as they looked on. "I only got her codename. It was something like...a weapon. Maybe gun? No, Shotgun. She helped me fight off some monsters that surrounded me on the mountain."

"Did you give her your name?"

"I think so. Actually, she's the one who hired me to guide the Shinra party through the mountains to the reactor before..." she trailed, the thought of finishing the sentence upsetting.

"It was probably just a footnote in a very messy incident report, if it was even mentioned at all," Jessie insisted. "I doubt your name is in there."

"You're probably right."

"But if it does come up, stick to your story," Barret suggested. "Chaotic event like that, they may not have reliable information."

"Got it."

"You'll do fine," Biggs assured her but she didn't miss the apprehension hiding behind the projected calm.

They spent the evening bouncing questions and going over breathing techniques. Tifa tried to hold onto their reassurances, to focus on the connection she shared with her friends. The fear felt suffocating, but she channeled it into determination. Now and then, she'd catch Biggs as he tried to read her.

When she couldn't listen to another second of the mock third degree, she slid out of her stool and stretched. "I'll never pass this thing if I don't get some rest."

"Fact," Jessie confirmed. "Being overly tired can make your vitals jumpy. Go, sleep. We'll see you off in the morning."

"I dunno about the rest of you, but all that grilling worked up my appetite," Wedge said with a chuckle.

Jessie clasped her hands together with enthusiasm. "I could go for a snack. What should we get, guys?"

"I actually need to check in with the watch," Biggs told them. "But stay and eat, I'll snag whatever's left when I get back."

Barret eyed him. "Has there been trouble?"

Tifa bowed out of the group with a wave. She caught the tail end of the discussion as she reached the door.

"Nothing like that, just have a quick weapon mod I told them I'd get to tonight."

Barret sounded like he accepted the answer and she hated that the lies just kept stacking up. She waited just outside and when the doors closed behind Biggs, she grabbed him by the wrist and led him around the corner into the shadows around back.

"Look, I know you're worried about me but—"

The words of warning she'd been concocting in her mind ever since he made his excuse to leave fled as his arms wrapped her shoulders. Tifa melted into the embrace, letting it soothe her raw nerves.

He pulled away just enough to search her eyes. "You're right. I _am_ worried."

Tifa reached for a steadfast tone. "You said yourself, it'll be fine."

"What if they figure out you've fudged the dates on your move?"

"I kept it close enough to the truth, Jessie said that was a good call."

"I know." He sighed, his eyes softening as he looked down. "I just hate sending you into that Zolom's nest on your own."

That softness always managed to break through her defenses.

"Biggs," she scolded playfully, lifting his chin with a finger. When their eyes met again, she did her best to comfort him. "I _can_ take care of myself."

He brushed her bangs aside and trailed a caress down to her jaw. "You are the strongest woman I know. If anyone can do this, it's you. I just—"

Tifa silenced his worries with a kiss, unwilling to think of them any longer. While surprise made him freeze at first, he quickly caught up to her affections. She let the press of the wall on her shoulder blades ground her, let the way he moved against her drown out any noise. And when she pulled away breathless and panting, she heard the emptiness of thorough distraction echoing in her mind.

Though sleep was fleeting and hard to catch that night, by the time she welcomed in the morning she felt like she just might stand a chance.

* * *

_**M**_ orning arrived with a solid dose of apprehension. Polygraphs were one of his favorite things to occur inside the walls of HQ. On the occasion he conducted one, he normally relished the process of watching a machine reveal precisely how much he could unnerve someone with just his words. Reno was particularly _un_ happy about the one on schedule later that day, however. This time, he had a vested interest in the outcome.

As Tifa sank into the same chair where he'd found her after the written exam, her expression appeared uneasy. He couldn't blame her. The sterile room, the occasional flicker of white light from overhead, and the heavy silence in this wing made for an intimidating atmosphere. Her eyes bounced continually between the door and the machine, landing on him sporadically. She was quick to look away every time he'd catch her.

"Before I get this bad boy hooked up, why don't you try taking a few deep breaths. You look like you've sat on a Cactuar."

Tifa laughed anxiously, appeared to take his advice with a few big gulps of air.

"Right, well, let's get started, yeah?"

"Sure," she replied, her nod less than convincing.

He glanced at his watch, took a risk that Tseng and Rude were not yet behind the one-way mirror. "You worried about what this will reveal or something?"

"I'm not," she told him, but her eyes widened just a sliver. It knotted his stomach. "Just nervous."

He tried to think of a way to calm her down, keep her out of her own way. "I get jittery before exams and shit, too," he offered.

Tifa sighed through her nose, the sound disbelieving. "You do?"

"Sometimes. But back when I was in your shoes, I felt like I had a whole fucking swarm of Stingers in my head."

Tifa chuckled, her posture easing a fraction.

Time to get shit started before she tensed again. "Go ahead and shift the chair so you're facing the wall. Your left arm will go flat on the table beside you."

Tifa followed his instruction, then he placed the two electrodes securely on her index and ring finger. "These read your pulse, sweat response, and oxygen saturation during the test. Try not to move your hand too much."

"Got it."

"I also need to place a cuff on your arm and two leads across your midsection. Do you consent to that?"

She seemed to set her jaw, but she said, "Yes."

With the cuff securely in place on her right bicep, he moved to place the two rubber tubes. "Lean forward a sec," he requested. Tifa flinched a hair when his fingers brushed her back to secure the tube around her ribs. The second tube he looped across her chest. "You can relax."

He knew that was unlikely.

Tseng's voice carried through his earpiece. " _In place_."

Reno slouched into the chair across from Tifa, watching her profile. He waited for the rise and fall of her chest to slow before he spoke. "I'm going to ask you a few control questions to give us a baseline. Pretty simple, just answer yes or no."

"Okay."

"Is your name Tifa Lockhart?" he asked, eyeing the laptop on the table.

"Yes."

He watched the reading on the screen, little change to the lines representing her vital signs. Good enough for conglomerate work. "Were you born in Nibelheim?"

"Yes," she answered with a nod.

"Try not to move." He watched her tense a little. "Is your date of birth May 3rd, 1987?"

"Yes."

"Did you move to Midgar last year?"

"No."

"Do you live in Sector Six?"

"No." The reading remained stable, finally establishing a baseline.

"Great. We've established a normal pattern of response. Now for the fun stuff," he said with a grin.

Tifa looked less than enthused.

"Have you knowingly lied during any part of this process?"

"No."

"Did you maybe, I don't know...fib on your background questionnaire?" He could all but see the face Tseng was likely making at the phrasing of that question.

"No."

He watched the monitor closely and saw the levels start to stabilize. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes."

"So you told the complete truth on the background questionnaire?"

"Yes."

"I see. And the written exam," he started, hesitant to ask. He opted for a soft pitch. "Did you answer truthfully to the best of your ability?"

"Yes."

" _Reno_ ," Tseng's voice warned.

"Have you ever lied to Public Security?"

"No."

"Have you ever committed a crime?"

"Yes."

"Was it the crime you mentioned in your questionnaire? The uhh, shoplifting incident topside where you stole lipstick and a vial of Celeris?"

Reno spied the blush on her cheeks and the slight rise in respirations as she said, "Yes."

He snorted. "Someone had a good night." Tifa looked toward the ceiling. Too bad she was limited to yes or no answers. Still, he pressed. "I didn't catch your answer, was it a good night?"

Tifa hesitated, then all but whispered, "Yes."

The way she bit her lip made him want to ask for details but Tseng's hidden gaze was somehow boring into the back of his skull. Time to get creative.

"Have you ever had sex while at work?"

Tifa sucked in a breath, her vital signs spiking. A sigh blasted through his earpiece, made him smirk.

"No."

"You're missing out."

Tseng was not impressed and temperately put in, " _Reno, for fuck's sake, stop ad-libbing. Ask the standard,_ relevant _questions_."

He wanted to argue, it _was_ pertinent information but carried on with an indignant sigh. "Other than the shoplifting incident, have you committed any crimes?"

"No."

"Have you ever stolen from or lied to an employer?"

"No."

Reno spied the next question on the left side of the screen. The desire to avoid it clouded his judgment for a moment; he'd never really bought into the brainwashing the way some of the employees had. Tseng cleared his throat on the other side of the glass, the sound going right into his ear.

"Do you believe in the Shinra Electric Power Company's mission statement?"

"Yes." But her vitals were elevated just slightly.

He rephrased, "Do you believe in the company's mission?"

"Yes," she said again, far more convincingly.

"If hired, are you prepared to carry out your duties as a member of this organization?"

There was a pause but when she finally answered, nothing spiked. "Yes."

* * *

_**T**_ ifa couldn't feel her fingers anymore and her bum had also gone to sleep.

The questions went on for what felt like an hour. Her mouth was dry and she wanted to stop, but she willed herself to answer every single thing Reno asked as evenly as possible. Apart from the questions that were clearly an excuse to flirt with or, at the very least, get some sort of rise out of her. She was less successful at maintaining her bland responses to those questions.

Once or twice, she thought she sensed a shift in his demeanor. A question that seemed to get under his skin. It would change the tone of his voice just so, making her wonder if there were cracks to be exploited. She tucked the knowledge away for later.

"All right," Reno stated, "last question."

Tifa forced herself not to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Have you been...truthful during this interview?"

The brief pause made her consider if he was somehow making the questions easier on her. She answered confidently. "Yes."

A momentary silence made her aware of how badly she wanted it all to be over. Reno huffed what could have been a triumphant sigh, easing her nerves. Just as it seemed he was getting ready to wrap up, she heard the door open behind her.

It was incredibly frustrating to be limited in view, unable to see what was happening. There was a brief, mumbled exchange that she couldn't quite make out but the tension of it filled the room anyway.

The unknown situation made her pulse hammer in her ears. She tried to focus on even, steady breaths to slow it. In. Out. She reminded herself that she could do this.

A chair shifted, the feet of it scraping the floor. They seemed to scrape back the other way a second later. Her eyes burned from the temptation to look at what was going on, but she had only her periphery to rely on.

Reno was no longer in the chair, replaced by someone with darker hair from what she could tell. She couldn't really make out any features, but something about what she could sense put her ill at ease. Sweat misted her brow.

"Ms. Lockhart," the new voice said. "I'm the director of the division. I have additional questions."

Tifa desperately wanted to wipe her clammy palms on her thighs. Her fingers felt icy as she curled them in on her right hand.

"Please try to relax," the director instructed.

She had to have done something wrong for him to be here now. _A ploy_ , she told herself. Something to get her off balance and cause her to make a mistake. Nothing more. The shaking in her left foot eased.

He wasted no time diving in, much to her chagrin. "You moved from Nibelheim to Midgar in August 0002, correct?"

 _Shit_. Her mind reeled with the new line of inquiry. She was prepared for the possibility they might question her on the topic but after the conversation the previous night, she hadn't predicted it coming up so quickly. His voice was cold, calculated. Everything about it was a stark contrast to Reno's charismatic drawl and lively presence. She would need to be at her best.

She thought of her friends and answered, "Yes."

"Quaint little town, isn't it?"

"...Yes."

"Have you returned to visit family or friends since you moved?"

"No."

"Are you willing and able to detach yourself from your past if Shinra deems it necessary, no matter the personal cost?"

Tifa's palms itched. _Slow breaths, in and out_. "Yes."

"Have you ever felt compelled to seek vengeance for a wrong done to you or your loved ones?"

Carefully, she made herself say the word, "No."

It felt as though he ignored her answer entirely with a follow-up question. "Would you go to great lengths to carry out this justice?"

She closed her eyes, pictured the warmth of the bar and Marlene's smile. "No."

"Have you felt such a compulsion against Shinra?"

 _Say it as if it's the truest thing in the world_. "No."

A pause in the rhythm of his questions threatened to undo the sense of calm she worked so hard for.

"Have you been honest in your answers to these questions?"

The phrasing rattled her and opened her eyes wide, but she forced herself to think of happy memories and answered, "Yes."

The director finally spoke again, his tone more doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered quickly. But she wondered if he could see through it all, if he could feel the lies like spiders circling all around her and filling the room with webs. Webs that could easily catch her if she made a false move.

The chair moved again. "That is all," the director informed her.

As she heard his steps retreating, she willed herself to hold onto that calm she'd found. Until the tubes and monitors were disconnected, she could trust nothing.

More steps, this time in her direction, and she felt the pull of someone tugging off the blood pressure cuff. "You can move now," Reno said.

For once, his presence was comforting. Still, she didn't dare let out the breath she was half-holding or slouch as she wanted to. Questions about the director's appearance burned on her tongue, but she kept quiet.

"Lean forward again."

Reno's fingers were at her back, the brush of them again making her tense up. The tubes slipped across as he removed them. As soon as the electrodes were unwrapped from her fingers and his back was turned, she quietly sighed a breath of relief.

As he put away the parts of the machine, he told her, "We'll go over the results and you'll hear from us on the next steps by the end of the week."

Everything about him was different then, she realized. There definitely seemed to be something she might be able to exploit, assuming she managed to make it past this phase and whatever was on the horizon.

"There's a bathroom just outside the security doors, should you need it."

Tifa took that as a cue to start moving. She rose from the chair on legs that felt wobbly from sitting still for such a long stretch of time. Pausing to let them adjust, she examined Reno's face as he closed the laptop and slid it into a case.

She didn't know what to say. It seemed strange to thank him, she certainly wasn't thankful for this experience. But with his brows knit and his lips a straight line, she felt compelled to fix a problem that was none of her business. She'd have to get a handle on the caretaker in her. He was the enemy.

She settled on something professional. "I'll look forward to hearing from you."

When he looked up, she saw the mask of bravado slip back on. "I'm sure you will."

Tifa made a vexed sound. "Have a good night," she told him, moving toward the door.

"Yeah, you too."

She didn't spare him another glance as she slipped through the door. Forcing a slow, intentional gait, she made her way back down the hall. It surprised her that she didn't need an escort, but then again, she was willing to bet every door was locked anyway. She avoided looking at the reception desk on her way by.

As soon as she crossed through the security doors, she made a beeline for the restroom Reno mentioned. When she was sure no one else was inside and no cameras were lurking, she chose a stall and locked herself in. Leaning back against the door for support, she let everything she felt in that room wash over her.

Ragged breaths shook her chest and she felt like she might be sick. Even so, she knew better than to give in to the nausea in case someone walked in. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a carefully wrapped ginger chew Jessie handed her before she left the bar. At the time, she thought the candy was a silly item to take along but standing in a bathroom stall frozen by panic she realized its purpose.

Tifa popped the chew into her mouth and took a deep breath, letting the simple task of eating the candy be her focus. The spicy flavor soothed her, brought her a little closer to a state of calm. She would have to get used to this feeling to survive the next steps. She wasn't sure exactly what her future held, especially after the questions she was asked, but she knew that it would not be easy.

* * *

_**T**_ seng slid into his desk chair and leaned on his elbows. Stress curled around his shoulders, an unwelcome guest. He thought back over the past twenty-four hours, where a name touched a piece of a past he longed to forget, a past that haunted him still within the deepest recesses of his mind. It lit a spark at the corners, spreading wild as the memories caught up to his present—the order he didn't wish to follow, the lives he didn't wish to take.

Again, he found himself reaching for a key to a locked drawer. Behind several hanging files, he pulled a well-worn envelope from its location. His eyes stared for many long moments at his own name scrawled along the bleak ivory parchment. How it arrived so discreetly so many years ago was still a mystery, yet he shouldn't have been surprised given the sender.

Pulling free the letter, he read it again. He spied her name, Tifa Lockhart, within the carefully constructed contents scribbled in haste. There was a desperation within and it chilled him just as he had read it the very first time.

At its end, he couldn't help but feel the slight tug of grin as he read the name of the signature. _Where are you now, old friend?_

Zangan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a long haul but I'm glad to be back working on this story and excited to share what's coming in the future. Thanks for catching up after a bit of a delay! It was mostly from deep diving into Before Crisis lore and gaining a deeper understanding of everything that happened with Nibelheim. The canon from that game will be woven into this story, though some details are AU. 
> 
> And as always, many _many_ heartfelt thanks to my beta/plot consultant/brilliant friend **Arisa_K**. Especially for helping me compose the last scene ♥️


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